


Harnessing the Beast

by zeldadestry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-15
Updated: 2006-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-27 07:53:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/659595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldadestry/pseuds/zeldadestry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am a monster, he thought, and I belong with other monsters. A monster is not dangerous when he is with his own kind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harnessing the Beast

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: issues of consent, violence (including the werewolf side of Remus's hunger for flesh)

Regulus and Bellatrix, the two of them stood side by side, arms around each other. Their gazes beckoned. They were two reflections of Sirius, Sirius refracted through a prism. A younger Sirius, a female Sirius, and Remus drew near them without thinking.

It was all over their faces, open and lewd. Like Sirius, unable to hide what they felt, what they wanted, and he took another step forward. Like Sirius, and yet they were not Sirius, and though his heart sped, it did not pound beneath his ribs to break free from his chest. He could control this, he knew he could. I am a monster, he thought, and I belong with other monsters. A monster is not dangerous when he is with his own kind.

As though Bellatrix read his mind, could see his surrender, she gestured to the bed. He lay himself down and the bed was still warm. They must have been resting there together, waiting for him.

Bellatrix leaned over Lupin, spread beneath her. His smell was strange, and she dipped her head down to nuzzle her nose against the side of his neck. His scent was clean at first, like the lemon soap Andromeda used. There was something else there, though, an undertone that reminded her of hunting in the forests surrounding Durmstrang. She lay down on her back beside him.

Remus was still, listening as her breath slowed and molded to his own. Now he turned to see her. He touched her face, ran his fingers down the curve of her nose, up her high forehead and through the dark locks that crowned her. He trailed his fingers all along the shore where the sand of her skin met the waves of her hair. She was so beautiful, he couldn't believe she actually existed. He couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch her. This, he discovered, this was normal desire. It was intense, he wanted more, but it was all his own want. There was none of the wolf, none of that unbidden lunatic who possessed him when he was beside Sirius.

The bed shifted as Regulus lay down on his other side. Remus felt the wolf stir, but he ignored it, pretended it hadn’t lifted its head and sensed the musk of prey.

He could not help turning around to put his hands in Regulus’s hair, thick and warm as fur. He could not help drawing Regulus's face close, so that he could lick the rough cheek, mark it as his own with the scent of his mouth. He did it involuntarily, though he told himself he chose to do it. No, he could not help pressing against Regulus, wrapping his arm around the broad shoulders, and he did not even need to lean in for the kiss, because Regulus gave it, shoving his mouth forward against Remus’s, slipping his thick tongue into Remus’s mouth with intentionally sloppy force, as though to prove the contrast between himself and delicate Bellatrix.

Bella only looked delicate, and she did not like how easily Lupin had turned from her. She slid from her robes, brushed her naked skin against Lupin’s back, and as she knew he would, he turned towards her, irresistibly drawn to her tits, like any other man, lifting them in his hands and pressing his face against them.

Remus wanted to taste her, flicked his tongue over one of her nipples and groaned as it stiffened. Her head fell back as he sucked, and it was so easy, so wanted, and yet, it could not get away from him. This could not destroy him.

Regulus, wanting to show Bella he could hold his own in the game, stripped and pressed his own body against Lupin’s back. He held Lupin by the hips, ground his own, his cock rubbing against Lupin’s ass, and immediately recaptured the prize.

This was only a movement, a moment, away from too much. This Remus had to be careful of, because when Regulus’s hand was stroking his cock, when they were kissing, there was a whisper of Sirius. It was in Regulus's taste and how he moved. The need he could not control roared, and he pushed Regulus away from him, he had to get away from this imitation of Sirius. Turning back to Bellatrix, he threw himself on top of her. There were only his impulses and he knew, knew to move his mouth down her body, to use his fingers to spread the lips of her cunt and then bend his head down to lick at her, suck on her flesh. Yes, flesh. Not for eating, but for tasting. The wolf understood. He liked this smell, this taste, the hot slick of her wetness against his tongue. Her lips were swollen under his mouth. His hands held her legs open and the inside of her thighs were damp with sweat. As he lapped at her, he could feel the blood moving to fill her cunt, could feel her flesh throbbing with her racing pulse.

He, Bella realized with delight, did not insult her with the repressive hesitance of normal boys, normal men. He wanted to taste every valley of her, he nestled his face against the sticky musk of her armpit, he licked her ass with the same enthusiasm as he did her cunt. She had never heard moans like his, so good, so guttural, an abandon that almost matched her own.

If Remus was loud, Bellatrix was louder and the wolf liked that her pleasure had the same sound as a woman in pain, it drew his balls higher, made him harder than he could stand. The wolf demanded. He moved up her body and she spread her legs wider and he held his cock in his hand to guide it inside her. In her eyes, the wolf recognized a shared sick hunger. The wolf saw that she wanted as he did, that she understood there was no pleasure without blood and he thrust deep and she let out another cry as her legs wrapped tight around him.

He was scratching her, biting her, and she returned every injury with equal wrath. It was rough and she wanted that, wanted to feel like she was bruising outside, inside. His cock was thicker than Regulus’s and she wanted the burn of it, wanted to feel she could be ripped apart. She wanted his eyes. She wanted to capture him with her eyes, same as her cunt, she wanted to break him, force his desire to submit to her own. The stronger a man was, the more she insisted on owning him. “Open your eyes,” she ordered. “Lupin, open your eyes.”

Remus did, but not to see her. His gaze passed over her, over to Regulus, who was beside her, unable to look away from her.

Regulus had never seen her face like this, what she was like when she was fucked. When he was inside her, there was too much sensation of his own to feel. Her responses seemed to melt with his and he was unaware of any separation between his desires and her own. He simply assumed they were the same. He had not expected this wanton aggression that made him feel she hated Lupin, hated him. “Black,” Lupin growled, but Regulus ignored him. He did not care about Lupin, he only wanted her. Then Lupin grabbed him by the throat.

Suspending himself on one arm above Bellatrix, Remus’s other hand clung to the column of Regulus’s neck. He could feel the strong pulse reverberating and Regulus had to look, now. “Black. Keep your eyes on me,” Lupin said, and gave a rough squeeze, a warning, before letting go.

Regulus obeyed, astonished as Lupin continued to hold his gaze. How could there be in Lupin’s eyes what he had always hoped to see in hers? Lupin loved him? How was it possible? For a moment he was in awe of it, glad of it, but then he recognized the truth. You fool, he berated himself, and each word was like the slip of a scalpel. He calls you ‘Black’. He loves Sirius, not you. Not you. All he wants from you is what he recognizes as Sirius.

With Remus’s eyes on that face, the face that was Sirius in another life, another world, oh god, his thumb pressed against Sirius’s, Regulus’s, bottom lip, Regulus’s tongue was soft against his hand. He could smell Regulus's spit, smell how his own had joined with it. He came with their eyes riveted.

Bellatrix was alone. The two of them stared at each other. Lupin’s body was still spread over hers, but his face was turned away. She could hear the wet sounds of their mouths suckling at each other. Lupin’s cock was growing hard again against her and she tried to wrap her hand around it. She was sore, she wanted more, but he shoved off of her, turned toward Regulus.

There was only one drive inside him, ferociously strong with nothing to temper it. More. Everything. All of him. He held Regulus down, wanted to carve him open and witness the beating of his heart, clutch the chambers of life in his hand and learn their rhythms.

Lupin’s hands were too strong, dug too deep, and prickling fear stalked up Regulus's spine. Something was not right here; he was being pinned down, trapped. There was a vacancy in Lupin’s eyes, as though he were fading. Would someone, something, else take his place? This was not the man he knew. He struggled, tried to pull his arms away, tried to gain leverage to kick, shouted, “Let go of me!” When Lupin only tightened his hold, when he growled and bared his teeth, snapping them, Regulus saw. Lupin let out a howl, and Regulus froze at the revelation. He was a Black, had known viciousness since birth, and yet had never faced a killer.

It was too much like Sirius under him. Everything burned, he was burning alive with hunger, a flame that would never ever cease. He was going to destroy everything in his path and he did not care. He was going to devour him, devour him whole. How sad that Regulus would never understand this was not hate. Regulus could never understand how good he tasted, how much Remus wanted to know every part of him, needed to break his bones and have even the marrow of him.

Lupin’s hands were clawing at him and Regulus writhed, unable to free himself. “Bella!” he cried. It was, it was, no words came to his mind, nothing but this humiliation, this absolute betrayal, of her watching this, watching him be made a victim, watching him and doing nothing. She stood a safe distance from the bed, a vulture anticipating. Lupin’s fingers, his teeth were tearing at Regulus’s skin, but as much as Regulus could he was fighting him off, stalling the invasion. He was resisting, but how long could the strength of his straining muscles last? He would survive, he had to, even violation was not enough to break him. “Bella,” he called out, again, and though he tried to make his voice steady, tried to demand, order her to help him, he could not. He could not control the tremors in his speech, in his body. There was a gash on his left side, below his ribs, from Lupin’s teeth and Lupin was scraping at it with his fingers, making it deeper and what the fuck was he doing, what the fuck was he doing? It was too much, he could feel himself slipping away. Would this be the last thing he ever saw, her face, flushed from being fucked, flushed from her blood lust? She was not going to help. She was not going to help him, that fucking whore, that fucking bitch. No one in this room was going to save him, and he began to scream for help, for help from anyone. He no longer cared who saw, who knew him in his weakness, it did not matter, all that mattered was that someone, anyone help him escape. Lupin’s teeth continued to rip. Regulus felt his flesh shred, felt it stripped away. His screams ceased, he had not the breath for them.

Remus’s mouth attacked Regulus’s lips, gnawing at them, grinding them between his teeth, tasting the rust and dirt of blood, and there was an echo, an echo in the back of his brain, something was reaching him, beyond the crescendo of his own blood in his ears. There was labored, failing breath. There was the feel of tears, warm against his lips, the taste of salt against his tongue. All of this made Remus’s own voice rise. Yes, Remus was emerging, he was here and he could battle with the wolf. He could recognize his own sympathy. He’s crying, Regulus is crying because you’re hurting him. You, Remus, you’re hurting him, you have to stop, you have to stop. And with these words he spoke to himself, his mind became clearer, as though he woke from sleep. Whatever was in his blood, driving him onward began to lessen, he felt that he could fight it. He continued to talk to himself. Yes, words. You, Remus, let go of him. He looked at his hands. Hands, let go, let go of him. And, slowly, their grip lessened. He forced himself to speak out loud, though it was difficult. “Can you hear me?” One of Regulus's eyes was nearly swollen shut, but the other flickered open. God, he was beautiful. Almost as beautiful as Sirius. As beautiful.

Regulus pushed weakly at Remus, resumed his useless struggle. “You can’t kill me. I won’t let you. I won't die.”

Those desperate words scratched Remus’s heart, but at the rebellion of Regulus’s body, the wolf attempted to assert its dominion. Remus heard himself say, his voice the animal’s again, “Don't you fucking move.” How he wished he could have comforted, consoled, but it was all he could do to hold back the beast. Regulus obeyed. His instincts were good. He knew he was in less danger than he had been in moments before. But he was still naked and lost in the woods. He had to trust the man with the wolf's heart, the wolf with the man's heart, if he wanted to make it through. With Regulus still, Remus gained more control, but the predator still circled. Words. Words could bring them safely back. “Keep talking to me.”

“Please let me go. Please, Remus, please, let me go. Remus, please, let go.” His plea was a soft chant offered without hesitation, and Remus wondered how many times Regulus had been here, wounded, imprisoned beneath a jailer who ought to have protected him.

This was a person, beneath him. Not prey, not mate, this was a person, a person in pain. These were Regulus’s eyes, and Remus knew them for what they were. What he saw there was worth more than any temptation that could be offered the wolf. Remus brought his stare to Regulus’s mouth, that beautiful smirking mouth his teeth had turned into rags. His fingers touched the damaged flesh, and when he bent down to brush his own lips against Regulus’s, he relinquished the battle for possession. He could taste this, even the blood, and not bite. It was possible. His touch was not cursed and limited to destruction. Remus wished he could banish the wolf completely, but he understood it could only be tamed like this, like they were trying. He had to keep his eyes open.

_Regulus._

_Remus._

Over and over they spoke each other’s names.


End file.
